


it's not about control but i turn back when i see where you go

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: The Monster's Darling [1]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:56:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Whenever Jack comes to him, they fuck. That’s all there is to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's not about control but i turn back when i see where you go

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I can't really tell you where this story came from.
> 
> I sort of came up with this story on the fly and write in a fervent haze for two days until it was done. It's the first time I've ever written something so...what this is. This isn't my normal style. I'm kind of surprised.
> 
> But I've been enamored with Dark/Jack for a while now, there's a lot of interesting concepts with it and it's a nice change of pace. Quin and I are both super into it, haha, so in a way, this fic is for her as well. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this for what it is. 
> 
> Title of the story is from "Oblivion" by Bastille.

_| "...But oblivion is calling out your name. You always take it further than I ever can." |_

~~

Whenever Jack comes to him, they fuck. That’s all there is to it.

Dark remembers when he first met him. The kid had been barely sixteen, still round in the cheeks with a scraggly mess of half-dyed hair and piercings adorning his body. There hadn’t been a bit of hair around his jaw, still fresh out of water and despite him looking like a member of a raggedy boy band, there had been something charming about him. 

He doesn’t usually go after the young ones. He doesn’t usually take to boys. A man of his esteem, somewhere shy of twenty-four, usually sticks to whores along the darkest alleys who don’t complain a whole lot and who keep their traps shut for a certain number of bills stuffed into their ever-grabbing hands. 

But something about Jack had caught Dark’s eye. The kid did _not_ belong in this part of town, where crime--namely him--ran the place, with darty blue eyes that screamed his vulnerability and ability to be taken advantage of. 

Perhaps that is what it’d been. He’d looked so innocent. Dark had known the kid was hardly legal for _anything_ , let alone a beer or two, but he’s never pretended to be a nice man and there hadn’t been any reason to start then. 

The kid had needed all of two sips from Dark’s bottle to hop into a car with him, riding him over to a cheap motel and Dark had honestly expected Jack to start fussing then, to start raising a stink and start screaming at him, but he had been unusually quiet. 

He had let Dark drag him up to a poorly lit room, kissing him along the corners of his cheeks and against his lips in a way he’d probably never been kissed before. He hadn’t made a sound as Dark had pressed his fingers against the bare skin of his stomach, half-tempted to yank his pants down to fuck him against the wall.

Jack had let him do everything. He’d been about as graceful as a newborn deer, and Dark had been damn sure this was Jack’s first time having sex at _all_ , let alone with a man. There’d been something endearing about that, though, and Dark’s not usually the type for feelings other than the ones that satisfy him. 

In the end, he’d fucked this kid into the mattress, holding his hand over his mouth to keep him from waking up the whole damn motel, because Jesus, this kid had lungs on him and Dark hadn’t felt like explaining why he’d been screaming like he was dying. 

Jack had been there in the morning, too. His big blue eyes staring at him in a wide curiosity, or perhaps he was unmoving due to the pain he’d likely been feeling. But Dark had gotten dressed and left the kid to fend for himself.

~~

It hadn’t stopped there. Dark had never expected to see Jack ever again, because that’s how many of his one-time fucks went, but somehow this kid tracked him down three years later, still green as hell in the gills and in the hair, by complete accident.

Jack, it appears, had a pension for finding trouble (and boy, was _he_ trouble). Dark doesn’t frequent the inner city clubs too often, because even though no one’s really capable of identifying him as The Absolute Most Dangerous Man in the Country, he’s still not a goddamn idiot and is just going to parade himself out in the open for everyone to see. But Dark occasionally has moments of indulgence for himself, and it just so happened that the night he indulged himself was the night Jack returned to the party scene. 

Two shots of vodka and a shitty dance song later, those pretty blue eyes somehow found his across a sea of sweaty bodies and cheap perfume. Dark honestly hadn’t expected Jack to recognize him at all, but again, this kid had a thing for trouble. 

Dark can’t quite recall the details of that night in vivid detail, but what he does remember is damn near screwing him in the stall of the public toilet. He’d been older--nineteen then--and Dark still doesn’t know how he got into a city club with his round face. He’d still looked like the sixteen year old kid he fucked against a ratty mattress in a place he can’t remember the name of. 

But he’d gotten better at kissing, that’d been for sure. His hands had been so much steadier, even going so far as to grab him back, push back against him with his lips which had been reason enough for Dark to bite him harder, leaving bruises that wouldn’t heal for weeks, because if this kid wanted to fight, Dark wanted to let him know who was the real king of this party. 

At some point they’d left the place and into a nicer hotel, but their hands never left each other and Dark had barely kept himself from touching Jack properly, because he had wanted this night to last and he’d been damn if he let him come anytime soon. 

He’d practically torn every shred of fabric from him, stealing every last drop of oxygen in his lungs, because Dark’s a greedy son of a bitch and there’s something alluring about Jack that drives parts of him crazy. 

Jack makes such pretty sounds when Dark’s kissing him along every inch of his body, when Dark spreads his legs open and leaves scrapes and scratches on every available surface. He’s so fucking pretty when Dark’s pushing his cock into him, and he’s moaning like he’s never been properly filled before. 

And he’d said as much, at the time. “You’re so fucking pretty like this, baby. Do you have any idea how pretty you are, wrapped around my cock?” 

That had been the first time Dark had learned his name, too. 

“My name’s Jack,” he’d breathed in the very, very little space between them. “It’s Jack McLoughlin.”

Dark hadn’t said it to him then, but he’d committed the name to memory.

~~

The thing about Jack had been that he was pretty, and Dark had very few pretty things in his life.

After their second time together, Dark had become fixated on the kid. Whatever it was about him drew Dark in, and Dark had taken to learning everything he could. 

Someone with his sort of influence, he had no trouble uncovering all the boring details about the kid. He’d been in the foster system from the age of twelve, his family’s actual whereabouts unknown, and he’d always been “quite a rowdy and rude child.” But somewhere after he’d turned seventeen he’d gotten his shit together, and he’d managed to get into university. 

It had been two years since then and Dark had considered for a long time contacting him, sending him a note or a text (because really, finding his phone number isn’t an issue) but he decides against it. Instead, Dark had chosen to keep his eyes on him, tracking his every move, and at the first sign of trouble, he’d scoop him up. 

Because Jack is pretty, and when he’s in pain he’s even prettier and Dark had never pretended to be anything but selfish. 

~~

The shift in their contact changed when Jack had turned twenty, just shy of a year since the last time they’d met.

He’d heard whispers of Jack being involved with other girls, other boys, but Dark hadn’t really cared about any of that. But young hearts are fragile, and Jack had surely gotten his broken more than a few times in his couple years at university. One had been particularly bad, and Dark had sent him a casual message, simply a time and an address, and it had been the closest to opening the door he could muster. 

Truthfully, Dark never expected Jack to have answered. When he was sixteen he’d been rebellious, and at nineteen perhaps he’d just been curious about the man he’d met three years prior. But he’d had his fill of him and that had been that, but he didn’t have it in him to not go to the hotel room and smoke, because there had been a fraction of hope that he would appear. 

He had. Somewhere around one in the morning, Jack had knocked on his hotel door, revealing him to be shaking, wide-eyed, and curious. He almost looked sixteen again.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Dark had said, snickering at the kid’s confused look. “This isn’t your normal hookup. When I choose someone, they’re mine.” 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jack had fired back, and once the words were out, the entire rest of his future had been sealed. 

Dark fucked him in earnest that night, not his normal way when he fucked around with other people. Because he had to tattoo this kid with every bruise and every bite to let the entire world know he belonged to someone, that he was never again allowed to be anyone else’s but Dark’s. 

~~

Every month, him and Jack would meet at that same hotel, and every month Dark would remind Jack that he didn’t belong to himself anymore. He belonged to Dark. 

Jack had never seemed to mind that stark reminder. He had willingly agreed to it when faced with the implication of what it would entail. He always let Dark kiss him in all the places that made him shiver, always let him dig his nails into his skin in all the places that made him scream.

It had become routine for them, and this went on for years after. Dark is an attractive man--he knows this well and he uses it to his advantage, and he knows well that somewhere in those few years, Jack had started to love him. He knew all the signs in a person falling in love--he’d slit enough people’s throats to know what it looked like when they begged for someone else--and Jack had the same glossed over look when he thought Dark wasn’t paying attention. 

Dark had never thought he’d loved Jack. He hadn’t thought he was capable. At some point in his life, he’d taken all weak emotions like love out of his heart and thrown it away, and focused instead on desires that satisfied his needs. But somewhere in those few years, he’d grown to care for Jack in his own way, touching him a little softer when he cried, kissing him a little longer because he seemed to like that. He’d found out the hard way that Jack didn’t like being tied up, and he screamed and cried like the devil himself until Dark had released his bonds and let Jack tremble against him. 

It had been moments like those that gave Dark the impression he cared for Jack. Anyone else he probably wouldn’t have given two shits about how they felt, but sometimes when he’s fragile like that, Dark remembers that if he wants to keep his things around, he has to take care of them sometimes. 

He had learned more about Jack in that stretch of time between when they were fucking and when they weren’t--sometimes Jack talked during too. Sometimes in between kisses Jack would tell him the stories of his university, of the wild parties and pretty girls who kissed other girls and the boys who kissed other boys. 

On the nights Jack talks about his previous relationships, Dark makes him scream louder than he ever has each time, because there’s an ugly monster in his stomach that demands the boy beneath him be his and only his, and Dark’s only way to satisfy that beast is to mark Jack so thoroughly no one else will ever want him. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of Jack. That’s a good thing. 

Sometimes on the rare nights where Dark fucks him slowly, tenderly, like he’s savoring each wince and hiss on Jack’s face, Jack will murmur about his family, what he dreamt they would be like, if he’d ever gotten to have them. 

Dark had traced lines into his skin while Jack came out of his orgasm, and listened to him chatter with the heavy tongue of a child. That’s perhaps what he likes about Jack, too. He’s always so easy to taint. He enters Dark’s life full of innocence and vulnerability, the picture-perfect image of an object to be stolen, and he always leaves as a soiled toy that’s only meant for him. But whenever he leaves, whenever he returns, it always starts all over again. He’s an endless amount of joy. He’s an endless reserve of energy that no matter how much Dark destroys him, he’ll come back his perfect little angel. 

“I’d imagine my ma would’ve been beautiful,” Jack had told him in a far off voice, the afterglow of sex still having hazed his mind. “My dad probably was pretty cool, too. Probably not tall, though. I mean, look at me.”

“There’s very little of you I haven’t seen,” Dark had replied, surprising himself with his answer. Mostly because he had never really answered Jack in these little ramblings. 

“I would’ve liked to have a sister, maybe two,” Jack had gone on. “You think I would’ve done well with sisters?”

It had been at that moment he’d broken the Very Unspoken But Important Rule of not engaging in intimate acts outside of sex. Jack had curled into him, demanding some sort of physical affection, as though he hadn’t already kissed him completely breathless moments before. 

“You’re about as gentle as one,” Dark had told him. “Probably.”

He’d put his arm around him deciding that fuck it, he’d do what he wanted.

He always did anyway. 

Dark doesn’t love Jack, not really. He doesn’t love anyone. But he cares for him, truly, and that’s more than he’s ever felt for anyone else. 

~~

Sometimes he buys things for Jack. 

Because Dark likes for his things to know that they’re pretty, and Jack has the worst self-esteem of anyone he’s ever met. He acts tough on the outside, but really he’s very, very fragile.

He sends Jack precious things, expensive clothes and pretty rings, matching necklaces and shoes that he couldn’t afford if he worked for three years. In a way, he feels like he buys him things in apology for not being able to love him. 

Not that he ever pretended he could. Dark had made it clear from the beginning that Jack was not to be loved, but to belong to him. Jack had known from the start exactly the kind of man he is, and will always be, but every now and again Jack makes him feel things that are disgusting for someone like him. 

Jack snips at him whenever Dark gives him another present, claiming that he’s not some mistress that needs to be showered in materialistic gifts that have no value to him. But he doesn’t seem to mind when Dark tells him how gorgeous he is wearing Dark’s things, and that seems to make it all better.

The night that Jack shows up in Dark’s clothes for the first time, Dark bends him over the table, his jeans pooling around his ankles as he shoves into him, tearing the soft fabric of his shirt with a vicious longing, leaving hickeys all over his shoulder and neck. 

“You ruined my shirt,” Jack had complained. “You’re such a beast.”

“I’m not even going to pretend I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Dark had replied. “I’ll buy you another one.”

“That’s okay,” Jack had said. “I still love you.”

Dark hadn’t really talked to him for the rest of the night. But Jack hadn’t seemed like he was expecting the words to be reciprocated anyway. 

~~

Jack is twenty six and a half when he steps into the hotel, a blank expression on his face that means bad news and Dark _doesn’t like it_.

For one thing, the anticipation isn’t in his face, and his blue eyes are duller than he likes them to be. 

It’s in this moment Dark realizes how much this kid has grown up. The green in his hair has faded significantly, the scruff on his cheeks aging him by at least a few years. The roundness of his face has evened out, the blue of his eyes having grown sharper, harder, and somewhere in between their first and this meeting, he grew up.

Dark doesn’t like it. 

“I’m not here to fuck,” Jack says, and that’s fucking stupid.

“You only ever come here to fuck,” Dark counters. “That’s what we do. Don’t pretend like that’s not something we do.”

“I’m not here to fuck,” Jack says again, his voice taking on a more commanding tone. As if he’s got any say in the matter, as if he can decide this. “Not today. Not ever again.”

Dark crosses the space between them, tilting his chin up with his fingers. “Since when were you the one in control of this arrangement? Do you forget who you belong to?”

As if he needs to remember the bruises in his hips, the scrapes along his back. As if he’s ever forgotten those. 

“I met someone,” Jack tells him quietly. “And to be with him, I can’t be with you.”

Something inside of him goes cold. Dark grabs him by the throat.

“No,” he says sharply. “It’s not happening. You agreed to this.” 

Jack is unnervingly silent. Then, “You can’t stop me.”

“I’ll kill him,” Dark threatens. “I’ll kill him and paint your fucking walls with his blood.”

The kid remains immobile. “No, you won’t.”

“ _Watch me_ ,” he hisses, and shoves him against the wall. 

Dark kisses Jack ruthlessly, forcing his way into his mouth, the clack of their teeth sending shivers through both of them. He tastes the iron of blood from Jack’s cracked lips, as he sneers out, “You’ll not belong to anyone else. You’re mine. Mine. Mine.”

“I love you,” Jack whispers, very tired and very low. “I might always love you. But you’re never gonna love me back, and he can.”

“You don’t need love,” Dark snaps. “I’ll give you everything.” 

“I don’t want this anymore,” Jack says. He closes his eyes. “Lemme go.”

Dark’s grip on him tightens. “You’re not leaving. I’ve been nothing but kind to you. Do you have any idea what I’m capable of? From day one I could’ve chained you in a room, fucked you and slit your throat until you were choking on your own blood. I could’ve torn your beating heart out of your chest and fed it to you. I could’ve made you my little pet, only useful for stress relief, I could’ve let any number of horrible men have their way with you. But I let you walk free on the stipulation that you’d return to me. I showered you in gifts and cared about you like I’ve never cared about anyone else. And you want to walk away from me?”

He doesn’t realize he’s trembling until Jack touches his fingers, soft and gentle against him. 

“It’s because of those reasons that you’re going to let me walk away,” Jack murmurs. “And when this heals, you’ll find someone else. And maybe you’ll love them like you never loved me.”

“I don’t need love,” Dark spits. “I just need you.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s ever felt, saying the words as though they’re poison on his tongue. He’s never shown this much emotion, never in his life, not since becoming the person he is today. He doesn’t _need_ anyone. But somehow, Jack isn’t anyone. He’s _Jack_. 

“Jack,” he mumbles, and takes a small amount of joy in the way his shoulders tense slightly. Dark very rarely uses his name. It’s always _baby_ and _sweetheart_ and other names of the like. Very rarely does he say _Jack_. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t use the surprise to his advantage. “Jack. Don’t walk away like your family walked away from you.”

It’s a low blow, but he’s not above that. He’s never pretended to be above that. He’s always been the kind of person to use every dirty trick in the book to get what he wants, and right now, he wants Jack to stay, even if he has to guilt him into it. Jack’s eyes harden for a brief moment, before they go blank again. 

“You can’t change my mind,” he breathes softly. “I’ll be around. Just...not for this.”

He lets Jack pry his fingers away from his collar, and Jack does him the courtesy of kissing his cheek before he heads towards the door, perhaps for the last time. 

“What’s his name?” Dark asks, because this already hurts more than it should and he’s angry at himself for not moving to stop him, for not knocking him unconscious, for tying him up and making sure he _stays_ forever, always. “Tell me.” 

Jack doesn’t seem like he’s going to answer at first. 

“Mark,” he hums finally, like it’s a fond memory. He says the name so calmly, in a way he’s never said Dark’s name before. “He's...a good guy.” 

The door shuts, and he’s alone. 

“You’ll be back,” Dark says to the silence that greets him. 

No one answers.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Thanks. <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [you've got all that I need](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11672985) by [AdorabloodthirstyKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorabloodthirstyKitty/pseuds/AdorabloodthirstyKitty)




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